her dress seems made of dandelions
fresh and so pristine
dew drops from spring leaves
dye her innocent eyes green
her youth seems made of dandelions
delicate as they sit in their meadows
a touch of molten summer sun drips
and turns her yellow
her heart seems made of dandelions
fragile as they fall into a maple bed
when she starts to love
the seams are stained with red
her body seems made of dandelions
and she starts to shudder
as the winter wind begins to blow
she has lost the seasons’ colours